“WHO MAKES UP THE RULES for which goes with what?” asked m’Lady Phytan Gorrista’s eldest son. “Eating meat with a fork, soup with a large spoon, or drinking yava from a ceramic mug? What about combining oil of olives with…
Tag: WIP
Works In Progress. The “typing” part of Writing — and the most challenging.
Prosatio Silban and the Shunned Fragment
THERE ARE SOME RECIPES A cook was not meant to know. It had begun innocently enough, in epicurean Pormaris’ enormous Archive of Gastronomic Artifice. This beloved institution was holy to two of the six-hundred-thirteen Flickering Gods: Toth-Ar the Divine Scribe…
Prosatio Silban and the Holy Terror
An homage to the Cook For Any Price’s D&D roots. Enjoy. THE FIRST THING TO KNOW about getting along in basalt-wrought Zug Ululat is that you must never, under any circumstances, mention the howling. Prosatio Silban knew this. And yet,…
What Dreams (A Prosatio Silban Tale)
COOKING IS MORE THAN SIMPLY preparation: it is also a celebration of source, and hence a manifestation of living history. “Where did you find this recipe?” m’Lady Phytan Gorrista asked between well-laden forkfuls. “I have never tasted its like.” Prosatio…
Words to Bring Back: “Drub”
– Definition: v. 1. hit or beat (someone) repeatedly 2. defeat thoroughly in a match or contest – Used in a sentence: Isn’t it nice when the Bad Guys finally get a well-deserved drubbing? – Why: Because “B.T.S.O.O. him” is…
Ancient History (A Prosatio Silban Tale)
A CHANCE ENCOUNTER CAN SOMETIMES be profitable – but the profit, though rich, needn’t necessarily be monetary. The sun was just kissing the golden-hilled western horizon when Prosatio Silban pulled up on the plaited yak-hair reins, signaling his dray-beast to…
Prosatio Silban and the Pernicious Wishes
PROSATIO SILBAN STOOD UP, WIPED his hands on his kneebreeches and cursed mildly in the name of a minor god. If only this wheel hadn’t broken, he thought, I’d now be in many-harbored Soharis cooking fresh-caught fish for wealthy or…
Prosatio Silban and the Keeper of Memories
“I AM THE KEEPER OF Memories,” said the man in the natty blue silk robe. “What do you offer?” “For your custom, or your breakfast?” replied Prosatio Silban. “Breakfast first!” cried the Keeper of Memories, and chuckled. “Always. Food before…
Prosatio Silban and the Disconsolate Wineherd
EVEN OVER THE CLANK OF his galleywagon, Prosatio Silban could hear the sobs. The weeper, a well-to-do farmer by his dress, was standing beside a smartly-appointed and -laden oxcart at the crossroads near Vineol, a town renowned throughout the Uulian…
Prosatio Silban and the Haunted Oyster
OF ALL THE THINGS THAT make the Three Cities and Thousand Villages of the Uulian Commonwell unique, perhaps none so typify that uniqueness as their calendar. Where other peoples marked time in a strictly numeric fashion, the Uulians used a…
Gustibus Interruptus (A Prosatio Silban Tale)
WITH A PATIENCE DERIVED FROM long practice, Prosatio Silban measured his pain and disgust against the vast cold deeps of Time. It was an old reflex, and a welcome corrective to the blood trickling from his arms and legs, not…
Prosatio Silban and the Hidden Kingdom
THEY WERE STURDY, SQUAT AND rowdy, but also virtuosi of fire and metal – which was only one of many reasons why Prosatio Silban always enjoyed the Delvers’ company. He had arrived for the first time at their northern realm…